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Greetings from Asia. I have begun my first tour of duty here in the Pacific Rim, and I started my trip off with a weekend in Shanghai. The fourteen plus hour flight did not seem so bad since I was able to sleep for close to nine hours of it; of course, that was only [...]
Take your time, think a lot, pour yourself a glass and enjoy a dose of slow food cooking by our very own superchef Toby Puttock.
"Slow food to me is the whole deal; a morning's work just to eat lunch, shopping for the vital ingredient, long preparation times, perhaps a glass of wine and a chat whilst preparing the mise en place. Most importantly a whole lot of love goes into the making of the meal. With this, I consulted one of my best mates' Cordell Khoury, who also happens to be my partner in the kitchen at Termini. He suggested we make a day of it at his family's beach house. We packed up the car and hit the coast for an extensive cook'n'chat session. And this was the result. Three dishes, six hours of preparation, eating, drinking, going off, all peppered with a heap of fun. Enjoy."
This risotto is the signature risotto of Milan (hence the name). The main ingredient is saffron which belongs to the lily family and grows only to about 15cm high. True saffron, has purple flowers. The first reference to saffron cultivation dates back to 2300 BC. Its origins are most probably Greece or Asia Minor where forms of the spice are known in the wild state.
What you need (serves four)
350g of vialone nano rice 15g of onion 900g of stock 50g of white wine 1g of saffron 80g of butter 50g of parmesan cheese Salt and pepper
What to do In a large and low casserole pot, saute the onion in a little butter. When the onion starts to become transparent, add the rice, stirring constantly, until it too starts to become transparent. At this stage moisten with the sauvignon and boiling stock until the rice is covered. When necessary add some stock. After around 10 minutes (when the rice is al dente) remove the pot from the heat and stir in the parmesan, butter and season to taste. At this stage I always put a lid on the pot, which causes the rice to swell up with the steam trapped inside the pot. Serve immediately.
If you really want to get authentic, ask your butcher for some bone marrow. About 10 minutes before the rice is ready place the marrow on a metal tray and into the oven, where it'll turn brown. At this stage the marrow should pop out from the bone. Now just place the marrow on top of the finished risotto and serve.
This is a mish-mash of different dishes I've learnt in my different cooking experiences. The pork is a variation of a dish I once made in London at the River Cafe, the potatoes I learnt at school during my training and the sauce is the result of the whole dish. It's a classic roast -- Sunday lunch style.
What you need (serves four)
1kg of pork shoulder 20 slices of copa (or prosciutto) 250g of dried porcini (fresh if available, but then you will need closer to 400g) 1 lemon 1 bunch of thyme 100g of prosciutto fat 2 cloves of garlic 2 medium potatoes
What to do Place the dried porcini in a bowl covered with warm water. With a sharp knife, butterfly the shoulder of pork. Dice the whole lemon and prosciutto fat into small pieces and blitz along with 150g of the porcini. This should give you a creamy consistency. Using a palette knife smear this farce or stuffing over one side of the pork. Season well.
Lay out your copa (or prosciutto) in a large adjoining square and place the filled pork in the centre. Roll the pork in the copa so that it's totally encased. With some butcher's string truss the wrapped pork so that the copa doesn't fall off during cooking. Seal the encased pork in a frying pan with a little oil and then place on a baking tray covered with foil and cook in a pre-heated oven on 200 degrees celsius for around 40 minutes.
Meanwhile peel and slice each potato lengthways into four pieces. With a small knife turn each potato so it has seven sides and looks like a barrel. Place in a small pot with cold water and bring to the boil. Test if they're cooked by sticking a small knife in them and once they are, brown the potatoes in frying pan with a little butter. When the pork is ready, remove the string and slice about one centimetre thick. Serve immediately with the potatoes, the excess porcini and a little of the porcini juice.
Never underestimate the old bread and butter pudding. This dish is a regular at Termini, although Cordell always replaces the bread with croissant. It's addictive, simple and the perfect way to really bloat yourself after a huge meal.
What you need (serves four)
2 croissants 2 T of sultanas Strawberry jam Creme anglaise 50g of butter and extra for greasing the moulds
What to do Gently break the croissant in half and spread it with butter and strawberry jam. Butter a couple of souffle moulds and break the croissant into pieces that will fit into the moulds. Layer a piece of croissant with a sprinkling of sultanas. Repeat this process until the moulds are full. Finally, pour the creme anglaise over the top. Place the filled moulds on to a baking tray and into the oven at 200 degrees celsius until the tops are browned. Run a small knife around the outside of the moulds to remove the puddings. Serve in a bowl with more warm creme anglaise, or my favourite, vanilla ice-cream.
For a dose of Toby in the kitchen, book yourself a seat at Termini in Fitzroy Street in St Kilda, 03-9537-3465.
Inspired by a comment I received from Josh at Pinotblogger in response to my review of a BioD wine (found here). He raised the question, a very valid question, about whether I would enjoy the wine as much if I tasted it blind. He’s right. How much is my tasting the “vitality” in a BioD wine related to my own psychosomatic predisposition to being intrigued by BioD wines made with natural yeasts?
But, just as soon as you start to go down one path of mental resolution, you open up a $22 bottle of BR Cohn Silver Label Cab and a Trader Joe’s $5 bottle and you realize that the TJ’s wine is better. A normal predisposition would say the more expensive wine is better.
It’s all subjective; fortunately I’m a sales and marketing guy with a liberal arts degree so I don’t have to get bound up in quantifying the science in it all. This subjectiveness is illustrated as much by our desire to date to attractiveness (or, in my case, marry) demonstrated by eHarmony (it don’t mean a thing without the picture). Blind tastings and personalities matches are great, but, yeah, I guess the label does matter.
Fri Feb 25th, 2005, Los Angeles Cocktail Cuisine - The Art of Appetizers Fri – 2/25/05 7:00pm-10:00pm Take your cocktail parties to a cosmopolitan level of food style and presentation!
For lack of better phraseology, it must be a pain in the arse when your livelihood is pinned on one opinion. If New York restarantuers think they have it bad with the New York Times dining section, imagine having all of midtown or Greenwich Village predicated on the penstroke.
BORDEAUX (AFP) — Influential US wine critic Robert Parker has drawn long faces in Bordeaux, handing out a series of low scores, and telling buyers not to bother with the 2007 vintage unless chateaux owners cut prices substantially.
“There is unquestionably little need to buy these wines as futures, unless dramatic price reductions occur. I don’t expect that to happen,” said Parker in his annual vintage review, titled “2007 Bordeaux: Who Will Buy Them and at What Price?”
Based in Kavadarci, Macedonia, Tikve? is the largest winery not only in Macedonia but also in the whole of south-eastern Europe.
The Tikve? region is a part of Macedonia abounding in natural beauty, with a distinctive habitat and climate, important cultural and historical sites, and a very long tradition of grape growing and wine making.
The Tikve? region occupies the central part of the Republic of Macedonia; it is situated about a hundred kilometres south of Skopje, around the middle section of the River Vardar. The sub-Mediterranean climate is prevalent here, characterized by long, hot summers and mild and rainy winters. Spring is shorter and fresher here, and autumn is longer and warmer.
The ratio between produced red and white wines is 50:50. The most widely grown grape varieties are Smederevka (white) and Krato?ija (red).
The range of produced wines depends on the vintage, but the list of wines they produce as quality wines (a step above table wines) could be wrapped up as:
Reds: Krato?ija, T?ga za Jug, Teran, Alexandria, Merlot, Burgundec, Kavadarka, Cabernet Sauvignon, Vranec and Rose
For the ?Special Selection? wines Tikve? has chosen the highest quality grapes and turned them into their best wines. In the red wine range these are Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Merlot and Vranec, while in the white wine range these are Chardonnay, Riesling, Temjanika and Traminec. The Special Selection wines come with a distinctive label.
There’s an old saying that goes something like: Opinions are like ********* - everyone has one! Well when it comes to burgundy, here are my standbys: What YOU like is what you like Be Curious Avoid Artifice - i.e. too much of anything, e.g. oak, ripeness, concentration, dilution etc…. Enjoyment is 90% about timing I thought this note might be about [...]
Wine Magazine have announced their 2007 WINE Classification (South Africa) - the fourth since first published in 2004.
It basically identifies South African wines and cellars with the best track records in terms of consistently good reviews in WINE magazine panel tastings conducted blind (without sight of the labels) over the previous five years.
If anything it gives you an idea of what to look out for in the respective categories when you're in the shops and/or which estates may be worth visiting.
The much-promised, overly hyped Riesling Review has now arrived (brought to you by Mylanta)
Jill, Yulia, P-Cat, and myself (Jay) converged at Boozer Headquarters (my place) last Wednesday for the Riesling blind tasting. P-Cat's writing a column for a local newspaper and needed to taste through a bunch so we decided to make it A Thing. We each got a bottle from a different geographic locale, figuring the areas that needed representation were Germany, Alsace, Austria, New York, and Australia (don't blame me for the last one, ok?)
AND, since we live the malt liquor lifestyle, we tasted them blind, each bottle wrapped lovingly in two layers of plastic bags. Ghetto super star, that is what we are.
Here are my rather lame notes:
Wine #1: Apricot, honeysuckle, rose petals on the nose; palate is lime, tangerine - stones, touch of cream, but thin.
Wine #2: SULPHER! Yikes, burned my nose hairs. V pale in glass. Diesel, swampy nose. Palate of bitter green orange, lemon zest, pink grapefruit. Long finish due to acidity.
Wine #3: Light, aromatic greens - fresh, sweet grass, white flowers, honeydew. Melon-apricot palate with stone minerality and balanced acidity. Yum.
Wine #5: Swamp water. Grape-lemon pucker candy. Sour Patch kids. Yuck. We no like.
Results:
1: Paul Blanck 05 from Alsace (score 1 for me!)
2: Grosset 05 from Australia (upset of the CENTURY, folks!)
3: Domaine Wachau 06 from Austria (amazing value - our favorite, hands down, at only $12.99)
4: Fritz Haag 05 Kabinett from Germany (which we all guessed because of the residual - oops, sorry, forgot it was supposed to be a dry Riesling tasting..)
5: Red Newt Cellars 06 Reserve from NY State (surprising only in that is sucked so badly for the money - tasting like bad NYState wine, so I guessed this one immedately...)
It was interesting too in that every wine except the Red Newt was screw cap. Go figure.
Still not a huge fan of Riesling, especially since I tasted all these the night before some serious food poisoning that had me leaving pieces of myself roadside throughout the state for the next two days and I can't help but link the two incedents.
This is a monster. Powerful nose, powerful palate and powerful dark ruby colour. Which I like at times but something is not quite in balance here. There is a pungent, smoky quality that is burning my senses and I'm picking up too much sulpher which I believe I'm sensitive to. Some black fruit coming through, nice firm tannins and a bitter finish.
Perhaps this is evidence that noting the vintage of a wine is incredibly important when choosing your wine - because the 2006 does not shine for me and I would probably only give it 2 or 3 stars at a push. It's a bomb and after half a glass I was ready to move on.
Have an amazing evening and above all - drink some great wine and champagne!
2008 promises to be an exciting year for The Cru so stay tuned!
To begin with I will be releasing a new look Cru in the next two weeks - it's going to a lot easy to navigate around and hopefully it will make finding your favourite South African wine that much easier and more enjoyable!
Until then have a great evening and enjoy the chosen Pouza!
For the first barbecue of the season last weekend I prepared some lamb chops and opened a bottle of La Morera de Montsant 2002, a Priorat D.O. by Cellers Pasanau. This turned out to be an excellent match. The bottle was offered to me by Joan Gómez Pallarès, the man at the keyboard of De Vinis Cibisque. We had met for a lunch in Barcelona during the Mobile World Congress last February.
May 31 - June 1, 2008 Stevensville, Maryland Can you think of anything more fun and enjoyable than spending a beautiful sunny day on the sandy shores of the Chesapeake Bay sipping wine? We can't either, so plan to join us at the Inaugural Chesapeake Bay Wine Festival which will be held at Terrapin Nature Park, Stevensville.
This is the weekend following Memorial Day and it should be the perfect weather for enjoing amazing wines from all over the state of Maryland..
The event will feature wines from 14 Maryland Wineries, as well as local cuisine, juried arts & fine crafts and live entertainment.
Tickets $17 per ticket in advance $20 per ticket at the door Must present ID to enter
Designated Drivers and Ages 13-20: $10 per ticket in advance $10 per ticket at the door
Group Rates: $15 per ticket for groups of ten or more (advance only)
There?s an urban myth that we can get all the vitamins and nutrients necessary to survive from Guinness. I?ve made the pilgrimage to Dublin, Ireland, to see if the myth is indeed true. My quest is being documented by a five man TV crew for my new series Glutton for Punishment (now airing on the Food Network in The U.S. and Canada). My plan: to live on nothing but Guinness and water from 6pm Monday until 6pm Friday. Fiachna O?Braonain, co-founder and guitar player of the popular Irish Celtic-rock band Hothouse Flowers has generously agreed to show me around the pubs of Dublin and act as my tour guide for the week.
My good friend Colin Devlin (who introduced me to Fiachna) is in Montreal recording an album, and I?m staying in his vacated flat. Colin bet me a hundred dollars that I wouldn?t survive the week on my self-styled diet. When I arrived at his flat, I discovered a chicken suit hanging in the bedroom with a note pinned to it. It read:
Dear Bob,
This suit is your end of the bargain. Fiachna will be happy to show you a fantastic time in Dublin. But if you cave in, you?ll have to wear this chicken suit for the duration of your stay.
Cheers,
Colin
PS: Please water the plants.
Day 1 (Monday)
Today Fiachna and I mucked about, had a couple of warm-up pints, then headed down to The Purdy, one of Dublin?s many gastropubs, for a fabulous last supper. Like a man on death row sitting down to his last meal, I ordered oysters (accompanied by Chablis), tagliatelle carbonara (accompanied by a Borolo), sea bass on roasted vegetables, garlic fried potatoes and stir-fried veggies (with a full bottle of [white] Mercury from Burgundy) and a multitude of desserts ? followed by Irish coffee, a shot of Bailey?s and a Blackbush Irish whiskey (on the house).
In a spontaneous show of solidarity (or drunken moment ? you choose), Fiachna surprised me by announcing that he was going to join me on the diet. At the stroke of 6 pm the two of us ended the gluttony and officially embarked on our week-long Guinness diet. If all goes well, neither of us will have a morsel of solid food, or any liquid other than Guinness (or water), until 6pm on Friday.
We headed to Searson?s, ?the local?, for a couple of pints before calling it a night.
Day 2 (Tuesday)
At about 9 am, I stumbled into the living room of Colin?s flat to discover two beautiful Irish girls sitting at the dining room table. One was salaciously juicing fresh oranges as the other set out a full-on Irish breakfast. A place had been set for me and all was offered up. While I was surveying the spread, Fiachna arrived and informed me that this was a regular monthly gathering. Even though it was too late to cancel it, he promised to persevere with his half of the deal. We cracked a couple cans of Guinness and watched the girls eat (and believe me, these Irish lassies put the girls from Los Angeles to shame when it comes to eating). The beer was surprisingly satisfying and the company almost made me forget what I was missing.
After our breakfast of champions, I visited a local doctor for a brief assessment. He was a bit shocked by my report on last night?s alcohol consumption (note to self: remember the 50 percent rule when responding to doctor?s questions about alcohol consumption), but after taking my vital stats, he pronounced me to be in fighting form.
Fiachna and I headed to an illustrious local pub to celebrate the positive prognosis. We had a pint while the camera crew ate a HUGE pub lunch in front of us. Afterwards, Fiachna headed to the studio to mix a track for an album he?s recording with the drummer of the Flowers and the original bass player of the Pogues (and Elvis Costello?s former wife). And I headed to another pub for a prearranged meeting with Father Brean.
I was seeking council in the art of avoiding temptation, and the good Father chose to dispense it while feasting on a delicious-looking plate of shepherd?s pie. Actually he was quite a hoot and gave me the best tip so far. His advice: to plug my nose when I was around aromatic food. I responded by sticking a napkin up each nostril, then sending our production assistant out for swimming nose plugs.
After bidding adieu to the man of the cloth, it was on to Fiachna?s studio to hear a few tracks. His band mates were both there ? munching on a freshly delivered pizza.
As if that wasn?t enough temptation for one day, Fiachna insisted that we go to a party thrown by The Dubliner magazine to celebrate their ?Top 100 Restaurants? issue. Naturally, the place was lousy with food, wine and chefs. We made a few friends, then headed off for one last pint.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 7 (or 8 depending who was counting) Water: at least a gallon Pees: About 15.
Day 3 (Wednesday)
Another day of temptation and torture.
A beautifully presented plate of eggs Benedict greeted me as I opened my bedroom door this morning, but naturally it was no match for a cool pint of the brown stuff which I quaffed while reading the morning paper.
After a bit of e-mailing and general housekeeping, Fiachna took me to meet a chef friend of his at L?Ecrivian, one of Dublin?s only restaurants to earn a Michelin star. As is my nature, I ended up in the kitchen where Chef Derry showed off several of his Guinness-infused dishes. Seems as though he thought my ?Guinness diet? included anything made with Guinness and he was eager to feed me. He must have anticipated my love of bacon, because just about everything from the oysters to the braised beef included it in one form or another. Frankly, it was his freshly-baked Irish soda bread that really made me weak at the knees. Chef Derry promised to pack me a box lunch for my flight on Saturday ? if I last the week.
After the demo, I headed out for a pint on my own. When I came back to meet Fiachna at the restaurant, I discovered him chowing down on plate of quail and sipping an Italian red from a fish bowl-size wine glass. THE FUCKER had caved! Frankly I was impressed that the rocker had lasted this long. And after a brief brow beating, I commended him on pacing me for the first 42 hours. After Fiachna?s betrayal, I had to endure the crew moaning in delight over a stunning lunch that Chef Derry prepared.
From there we toured a few other pubs where I learned to ?pull a pint? and met a few nice ? albeit plastered ? locals. Then after the crew stopped for a quick fry-up at the local chippy stand, Fiachna took me to a pub where he sat in on the penny flute with some traditional Irish musicians. Needless to say, a couple of pints were added to the mix.
In case you are wondering about my state of well-being, it has been a bit of a roller coaster ride. At the end of day two, I had developed a raging head ache. But it later dawned on me that it was probably due to what I wasn?t drinking ? caffeine ? then the all-day drinking or lack of food. I am finding myself vacillating from moments of euphoria to periods of grumpiness (yes, really!). And as I type this I?m feeling quite light-headed. So far, I?ve never felt drunk ? just slightly buzzed for brief periods. And one other thing of note, I can?t turn around without seeing food or references to food everywhere I look.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 8 Water: tons, but probably still not enough Pees: I lost count after 20.
Day 4 (Thursday)
This morning?s offering in front of my bedroom door was a dessert plate sent over by Chef Derry. Needless to say, the double chocolate brownie, fig shooter and vanilla custard were no match for my ?pint of plain? which I enjoyed at the local at 9:30 am.
After breakfast, Fiachna sent me to his hairdresser-to-the-stars for a Guinness shampoo. Wow, the man who touched Bono?s mane touched mine. Come to think of it, Bono doesn?t have much left these days.
The rest of the day was consumed (or not as the case was) with a visit to the grave of Arthur Guinness, the founder of Guinness. Arthur died in 1802, but his great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson, Patrick Guinness is still dining off the family name. Patrick, to be fair, was very cordial (in that upper crust, self-aggrandizing kind of way) and was happy to spin truths and a half-truths about the family history until Will mercifully called ?cut?.
We wrapped early and I took in the Borat movie at a packed cinema. Despite the wafting popcorn aromas, it was a welcome distraction ? and wickedly funny in a juvenile kind of way.
The hunger pains have subsided, as has (most of) the grumpiness, and I?m shocked at how much energy I have considered my limited caloric intake. That said, and despite the conventional wisdom that says the stomach shrinks, I do feel as though if I let my guard down for a second, I could do some serious damage to an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I am cautiously optimistic that I?ll make it to the finish line. However, my bravado is tempered by my fear that the entire crew is still determined to take me down ? after all, they?ve had every culinary resource in Dublin at their fingertips. With only 18 hours to go, the proof, as they say, will be in the pudding.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 5 (today was the Guinness diet diet!) Water: who cares any more Pees: let?s just say the soles of my shoes are wearing thin
Day 5 (Friday)
Nothing could have prepared me for the challenges that would face me today.
There was a note outside my door in the spot I?d come to expect my daily breakfast offering. It read ?Townsend Street #2.? I dressed quickly, glanced at the chicken suit, then ran out of the flat and waived down a taxi. The cabbie deposited me in a scrappy part of town in front of a dubious looking pub called The Windjammer. When I entered I saw Fiachna sitting at the bar devouring a plate of poached eggs on mushrooms and toast. In fairness, he was accompanying his breakfast with a pint, so naturally I joined in. The Windjammer is an ?early house.? Early houses, for the initiated, are pubs in Dublin that?re licensed to open at 7am in order to serve shift workers as they get off work in the early morning hours.
After we finished our respective breakfasts, Fiachna took me to the coast to see the James Joyce museum. It was cold, overcast and rainy. As we approached I noticed several swimmers braving the icy waters. I looked at the swimmers, then at Fiachna. Suddenly my mind scrolled back to a moment as we left the early house when the soundman took my microphone pack from me ?to fix a loose connection.? The penny dropped just seconds before Fiachna dropped his trousers, revealing a pair of plaid swimming trunks. Coincidentally, he just happened to have an extra pair of shorts with him, and insisted that I join him. Before I could decline, he cannon-balled into the drink and I had no choice but to follow. The 40°F ocean waters would have been a shock to any system at the best of circumstances, but they were even more jarring to my weakened body. At the same time I must admit that the experience was quite invigorating. We scampered out onto the rocks shivering. There were no towels in sight, but Fiachna produced a steaming thermos of chicken soup and held the cup up to my nose. Weakened, but not yet broken, I took the soup and poured the whole lot over my head. Chicken soup never felt so good.
With the ruse up, we toweled off and headed to a pub for a quick warm-up pint. I can?t say that it warmed my body, but it certainly took the edge off the shock. From there, Fiachna brought me to one of Ireland?s finest cheese shops. Great cheeses of the world are one of my weaknesses and this shop had them all. I did my best to ignore the wafting aromas as Fiachna and the crew devoured a tasting. Our next stop was a specialty wine store around the corner. The owner had set out a luscious food and wine pairing for us and Fiachna dove in with the same wild abandon he had displayed at the sea side. Then he announced that I could pick any wine in the shop ? as long as I opened it and had a glass. I looked around the well-stocked shop and eventually spotted the reserve case. Closing in on my prey, I discovered a 1985 Petrus ? one of Bordeaux?s most legendary wines, and an excellent vintage. The price was 1,250 euros, well beyond the budget of my weenie cable show. It seemed like a toothless ploy until Will, my director (and the show?s true protagonist) whipped out his wallet and produced his credit card.
At this point it should be noted that Will and I have been traveling on the magical mystery tour we call Glutton for Punishment for the past six months. By now he?s well acquainted with my many weaknesses. Will?s as competitive and tenacious as I am (but in a much more Zen-like way). Usually he?s my staunchest supporter, but in this particular episode he took it as his personal mission to take me down. He also happens to LOVE wine and wanted to taste the Petrus as much as I did.
?Drink it now and I?ll pay for it,? he said.
He was dead serious.
It?s not often in one?s life that they have the opportunity to drink an ?85 Petrus. With less than two hours left, Will taunted me by saying that I could have my wine and drink it too, then only have to endure two (humiliating) hours in the chicken suit. It was painfully tempting, but I knew the finish of the wine would fade long before the stories of my demise.
Next up was a visit to the doctor who?d examined me earlier in the week. Despite his pronouncement that I was ?slightly pale and tired looking,? I was feeling surprisingly spry. He quizzed me about the week and shook his head in disbelief at how much I?d consumed. According to his scale, I lost more than five pounds. The mild-mannered doctor was quite shocked (and dismayed) to find that all my vital signs were exactly the same as my first visit. (Note to Morgan Sperlock: choose your poison wisely). Moving in for the kill, I challenged him to an arm wrestle. I?m sure I detected a flicker of fear in his eyes as he politely declined.
With a renewed spring in my step, we moved on to the market bar where my victory dinner was set to take place. Even though there was less than an hour remaining until the 6 pm finish line, many details had yet to be arranged. Peter Devlin (our local production coordinator, and Colin?s brother) was dispatched to accompany me for a last pint. Six o?clock came and went. I got a hand shake ? and another pint ? from Peter, but at this point, all clocks were reset to television time which basically meant that I couldn?t have my first bite until we were ready to roll. 6:30?7?7:30?another pint?8. Finally Peter?s cell phone rang with word that everyone was ready. As we walked across the street to the restaurant, it began to dawn on me that I had actually survived all the physical challenges, temptations and hurdles of the Guinness diet.
Fiachna was waiting at the bar to greet me with a victory pint. He announced that the table was almost ready. We were to be joined by chef Darry, orange juice girl, his band mates, the Guinness barber and a few other sorted and assorted characters that we had encountered in our travels. Fiachna excused himself for a pee and I nursed my last pint, thinking about how long it would be before I would order another one on my own volition. Much to my pleasure, one of the most stunning woman I had seen all week sat down on the stool Fiachna had just vacated. Needless to say I had no intention of saying it was taken. Moments later, a curvaceous full-lipped-dark-haired beauty sat down on the vacant stool to my left. Apparently the two were friends and we immediately struck up a conversation. I could tell that the fair skinned girl was Irish and the dark haired girl seemed Spanish. The Irish maiden was plucking ripe strawberries from a bowl and dipping them in freshly whipped cream. Seeing the hunger in my eyes, she generously offered me a strawberry. In my slightly buzzed state, I tried to explain my predicament. This amused her, but she would have none of it. The two of them took it as some form of challenge complete the mission that the rest of Ireland had failed to at. I held my ground, which only made them more determined. Sensing my weakened state of willpower they both offered me a long slow kiss if I would just take one bite. Eyelashes fluttered, nostrils quivered and lips curled.
Would anyone really know?after all Fiachna was in the bathroom and?hey?just a minute?
Having survived the last temptation of a very, very long week. I was shepherded to the table where I joined the waiting group (and the two girls from the bar) for the final countdown. For the record, in real time it was 8:30 pm.
5-4-3-2-1!!!
After the big hurrah everyone was curious about how I intended to break my fast.
?What I would REALLY like is nice glass of red wine?, I replied, ?but there?s something I want first,? then I grabbed a long slow kiss from the two girls ? who it should be noted were a bit shocked by the unscripted moment.
Moral of the whole experience: With a little will power and perseverance, you can have your cake and eat it two.
The Daily Count: Pints of Guinness: 8 Everything else is a blur
Saturday
As I type this, I?m 36,000 feet in the air, en route home to Los Angeles. Chef Derry over-delivered on his promise and I?m munching on a pheasant, tomato confit and Gubbeen cheese sandwich ? just one of the many delicacies in my well-stocked lunch box. To heighten the pleasure, and make up for lost time, I?m washing it down with a full-bodied Spanish Rioja that the flight attendant brought me from First Class in trade for some of my fois gras. My week?s experience has made me even more appreciative of the things I?m fortunate to take for granted, and it?s a renewed pleasure to be able to describe food that I am actually eating.
Glutton for Punishment airs on the Food Network in the U.S. at 9:30pm Tuesdays. In other episodes Bob Blumer enters a chili pepper eating competition, a flair bartending competition, the New York City waiter?s race, and attempts to run the Medoc marathon while sampling all 23 wines along the route.
Big News! Okay, I was trying to keep this one under wraps but it seems a few people have already found out and, well what better place to announce it than here right?
As of August 7th I will be back at the Wine Warehouse full time drinking for my living. I am very excited and can't wait to get back in the game.
Also My friend Andi got a new job at the O'Henry Hotel and I wish her mucho success in all of her endeavors. I will miss her.
99-100 Parker: "Domaine de Pegau?s magical 2003 Chateauneuf du Pape Cuvee da Capo is a magnificent offering. Tipping the scales at 16.1% alcohol, it boasts a blockbuster nose of dry vintage port intermixed with pepper, herbes de Provence, and roasted meats. Frightfully concentrated with layers of glycerin and fruit, it should prove to be one of the appellation?s greatest classics. More backward than either the 1998 or 2000 Capos, it is an enormously endowed, hugely concentrated, exhilarating effort that will last for three decades or more. It is a strong candidate for the ?wine of the vintage.? Anticipated maturity: 2010-2035+. When I asked Laurence how she would describe this beauty, she said, ?It consists of 80% of a great vintage of Chateauneuf du Pape, 20% a vintage port, and the rest some Syrah and other things we throw in for complexity.?
I think this is rather important and pleasing news for the South African wine industry.
"The government has rejected an application from a South African-born scientist and his business partners to sell genetically modified yeast to local wine producers, saying it cannot risk jeopardizing the industry?s access to key European markets."
The modified yeasts may have made the winemaking process easier and perhaps resulted in more consistently good wine - but I applaud the decision and believe we should strive for more organic solutions and less preservatives in both wine and all that we consume on a day to day basis .
What do you think? Are you pro genetically modified yeasts in wine?
We're speeding up the narrow two-lane road to Montalcino in Yoshi's somewhat dilapidated Datsun. After a great weekend in Siena, where I experienced a mild art glut, I was anticipating a few days in a quieter setting. Luckily I had met Yoshi four years ago during language school in Italy. After I went home, he kept hanging out and never went back to Japan. Being a confessed Italophile and vinophile, he studied Italian wine and ended up as the head wine guy at Banfi Castle in Montalcino. Now Yoshi lives and "works" in an Italian castle drinking some of Italy's most celebrated wine. Tough.
Luckily I don't suffer from nausea, so the semi-suicidal 2,000-foot climb to Montalcino rewards me with stunning views of Tuscany's grandeur. "That's where I live," Yoshi mentions casually with just a hint of pride. I follow his gaze up the mountain to the rustic hamlet now barely visible behind its wall. A few church towers rise above the crowded maze of tenant buildings. A woman opens the red shutters of her rustic apartment. March in Montalcino is a long, lingering month. With that in mind, I feel the urge to kill Yoshi and steal his job and life when I'm suddenly quelled by some amalgamate image from childhood: the Italian equivalent of Julie Andrews running down a green, mountain pasture, arms aflight, Ave Maria wafting in the background. I relax and enjoy the scenery with only mild pangs of jealousy.
We're in southern Tuscany -- the place Adam and Eve had to leave after Eve bit into that ripe sangiovese grape. Here, there's no shortage of excruciatingly quaint hilltop towns; no problem making you feel like writing home to say, "Sell everything. Never returning." Southern Tuscany is wine country, is Italy, is civilization at its very best. And if southern Tuscany is all that, Montalcino (Moan-tall-chino) is the capital in my eyes -- what most Americans must envision when they think of Italy. Picture the medieval burg clinging to its pinnacle, the serpentine cobblestone streets and squat grandmothers who negotiate them. Churchbells can be heard from anywhere in the city. Good wine is a given. Here, the pace is slower, the olive oil greener, and the entire town seems to reek of the perfection of daily life.
"There's not much to do in Montalcino," Yoshi says. But he says it in such a way that leaves me thinking "nothing to do" in Montalcino is most definitely a good thing. Here, hours are stretched free of charge. Wineglasses swell with content, and like the mythic Hydra, dishes of savory pasta seem to regenerate threefold every bite you take. There are no teenybopper discotheques, no cheesy trinket venders peddling their weary wares on the streets. Not even the Let's Go and Rick Steves backpacker hordes find their way up the mountain (often), as it's a bit difficult to reach. No train braves the perilous climb up to Montalcino's summit. Without a car, you're better off taking the one-hour bus ride from Siena.
Once at Montalcino, you're greeted by a perfectly preserved medieval hamlet. Start with a walk to the far end of the city where the fortress, or Rocca, lies. Familiarize yourself with the one main street. This requires little effort and will also let you kick off your stay in Montalcino at its Rocca. Walk the grounds, take a stroll along the catwalks, or cruise inside the turrets. And though the views from just about anywhere in Montalcino are truly inspiring, those from atop the Rocca feel somehow even more regal. Plan secret attacks on neighboring villages, wax philosophic, or just suck in the mountain air.
Although constructed in the 14th century, the Rocca has been "modernized" inside with the addition of its own wine bar, or enoteca -- arguably the first Italian term you should memorize. These blessed creatures, these enoteche, curiously absent (or at least endangered in America) thrive in Montalcino. And enoteche make me very happy. This particular one allows you to sample not only some of Italy's finest wines ($1.50 to $5 a glass) but also local meats and cheeses, like the indigenous wild boar sausage and the smooth Pecorino cheese.
Someone dead and famous once said, "To truly appreciate someplace, go there poor." That sums up my travel philosophy as much in principle as out of necessity. And while northern Italy is no budget traveler's dream, we will endure. Believe me, you'll feel better spending money on a truly memorable Tuscan experience -- like a few glasses of wine in the Rocca -- than you will getting your caricature taken outside the Duomo in Florence for triple the price.
If you're looking for something a little less, well, fortress-like and expensive, check out Enoteca Franci, one of Yoshi's hangouts. You'll find it in the main piazza to the side of the clock tower on Via Mazzini. Enoteca Franci is the Cheers of the city, attracting every living inhabitant in Montalcino, young and old, hip and otherwise. During sunny days, get a bottle of great Montalcino wine, sip a cappuccino or snack on some rustic salami and Parmigiano cheese. At night, the atmosphere is right out of a Hemingway novel: red vinyl benches; mirrors; chandeliers; and a dark, cavernous back room full of wines to choose from or to ogle, or both. Sound expensive and chic? Nah. Plus you get the whole "ex-patriot, grainy black-and-white" feeling to boot.
And there's plenty of great wine to go around. First and foremost, the top wine, the black rooster of the town: Brunello di Montalcino. Actually, its reputation doesn't just apply to Montalcino, Tuscany or even Italy. In the world of wine, Brunello is a big boy. A strain of the more familiar sangiovese grape of Chianti, Brunello (so named because of its brownish hue) is responsible for Italy's finest red wine alongside Barolo. With a minimum aging of four years -- six months of which must be in bottle -- Brunello is a dark, dry, potent wine that goes with anything it wants. For that reason, it's, well, a bit expensive. A bottle will start around $20 and run as far as your credit card can. And further. And faster. Keep in mind, though, that the same wine in America -- provided you can even find it -- costs much more. From the little investigating I've done, you're looking at around a $10 to $15 price hike in America on Brunello. In addition, you have the usually insane "dock fees" or whatever American restaurants call their premiums. Translation: if you feel like doing it up in Montalcino, Brunello is the one.
But I have good news for those who don't want to mortgage their mothers for wine: Rosso di Montalcino. This wine is made from the same sangiovese strain. In many respects, it's the same wine, the only difference is the aging time and price tag. And sure, I could probably tell the difference between Brunello and Rosso. But I can also tell the difference between a Mercedes and a Honda. And which is better for the money? Rosso starts at $5 and runs to about $10 for the top producers. Don't sweat these big names, though. Every bottle I had was a lesson in how to enjoy life. And if you're not a total wine geek, Rosso, in most cases, is a much better choice than the far pricier Brunello.
The more established wineries in Montalcino excel in most all the varietals, though. Apart from the slew of red wines, you can peruse anything in white from sauvignon blanc to the syrupy sweet moscato. In short, Montalcino is a wine town. You merely need to visit Enoteca Franci or any one of the some thirty million bars or enoteche (or so it seems, as potential wine pit stops appear with blissful regularity). And when drinking wine in Montalcino remember: being snobbish with wine doesn't come naturally to Italians. Wine is their mass consumption, normal beverage which, for most Italians, still comes in a water glass. As such, wine drinking seems a touch more genuine, more enjoyable. No pedantic rigamarole, just good wine and, of greater importance, kind, witty people.
If you're itching to taste the proverbial "fruit of the vine" and want to experience what really put Montalcino on the map, go to the tourist office and get a bus schedule for the wineries themselves. They're located outside the city, it takes a vehicle, a Japanese friend with a vehicle, a bus, a taxi or a long thumb to get there. For a taste of the original Brunello, head toward Biondi Santi. Clemente Santi was responsible for isolating the Brunello strain of the sangiovese grape in the last century. Since then, Biondi Santi has claimed awards around the world for its Brunello. Good for them. Also good for us -- if we want to spend around $40 a bottle. Prices and standards are high. However, if you're a Brunello freak, or plan on becoming one, this wine is a "must taste;" and the winery, a connoisseur's "must see."
I also highly recommend Banfi: one of the most established yet progressive wineries in Montalcino. You can enjoy the views from the tasting room, the Banfi Villa, the Banfi Castle and, most importantly, slurp some vino with Yoshi. (Tell him I sent you. Heck, it might be good for some perks.) You can even eat at the winery, if you want to drop some major cash and really impress your significant other. However, any type of winery experience is possible. Montalcino has everything from space age, stainless steel producers, to old school brothers with unpronounceable names.
Just about any type of winery experience is possible, though. Montalcino has everything from space age, stainless steel producers to old-school brothers with unpronounceable names. The smaller estate of Campogiovanni, for example, doesn't have the esteemed reputation and, therefore, must make quality wine at the lowest cost possible. Although owned by the larger San Felice, Campogiovanni is fighting to make a name for itself in the highly traditional ground of Montalcino And in this category, there's a plethora of great wineries ready to sell you on wine before non-existent, or at best, respectively small, reputations. A
Tecnorati
For the ?Special Selection? wines Tikve? has chosen the highest quality grapes and turned them into their best wines. In the red wine range these are Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Merlot and Vranec, while in the white wine range these are Chardonnay, Riesling, Temjanika and Traminec. The Special Selection wines come with a distinctive label.